


the importance of texts

by paradoxicalconverse



Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bands, Alternate Universe - College/University, Calamity Jane makes several appearances god bless, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, an overabundance of dialogue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-13
Updated: 2019-03-13
Packaged: 2019-11-16 13:32:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18095273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paradoxicalconverse/pseuds/paradoxicalconverse
Summary: Wynonna said to never fall in love with a boy in a band. So girls didn’t count, right?





	the importance of texts

**Author's Note:**

> hello it has been a hot minute so I have a few house keeping issues to clarify  
> 1\. i have not read through this fic at all. I wrote it all in one sitting. it has not been edited.  
> 2\. i am a piece of garbage  
> thank u that is all

For what it was worth, Waverly Earp hadn’t _meant_ to end up here, on the couch of some high class hotel room she was too broke of a college student to be in, much less with someone between her legs and her eyes rolled back in her head in ecstasy.

She hadn’t _meant_ to lose Chrissy in the crowd three hours prior, hadn’t _meant_ to run into the bassist of the band, Nicole fucking Haught, and insult her music directly to her face, and god knows she hadn’t _meant_ to end up in said individual’s hotel room, fucking on her couch because they couldn’t wait to make it the ten more feet to the bed.

Three hours ago Waverly wanted to be in bed, fully prepared for a midterm in five hours. Now she wanted the tongue against her thighs to stop god damn teasing her and give her what she wanted.

And wasn’t that another convoluted fucking mess entirely.

 

**Four hours ago**

“It’s midterms, Waves. You’re _supposed_ to fail those. That’s why we have finals; so that we learn from our mistakes on the pre-test and ace the finals instead.”

“You didn’t—remind me how you got into college again?” Waverly frowned. Her pencil eraser had disappeared around an hour ago but it didn’t stop her teeth from gnawing haphazardly against the metal of it.

“Daddy’s money,” Chrissy replied. Waverly choked. “I’m _kidding_. I got a thirty-two on the ACT. Look who’s hot shit now?”

“I got a thirty-six.”

“No one asked, Earp.”

Waverly’s teeth jarred against the end of the pencil and she dropped it against the desk; the aura of defeat had peeked its head over her shoulder an hour ago along with the absence of her eraser and she’d managed to prod it back with the thought of a midterm tomorrow. But Chrissy was already scrambling through her closet and maybe going out wouldn’t be such a terrible idea.

“Fine. We can go. One hour.”

Chrissy held up a cocktail dress and beamed.

 

**Three hours ago**

Maybe concerts weren’t the worst place Waverly had ever been, but they damn near came close.

The music wasn’t altogether terrible but they were too far away from the sound to carry back correctly and none of the band members had distinguished faces from her vantage point; the only noticeable attribute was the bassist with bright red hair pulled back into what had to be the world’s sloppiest bun.

Maybe something rolled in the pit of Waverly’s stomach whenever the camera that linked to the big screen over the stage rolled over her.

 _One hour._ It hadn’t been a terrible hour. Chrissy had stolen a flask off some frat guy who was probably named “Champ,” or something equally atrocious an hour ago and had made several attempts to offer it to Waverly and then decided to finish the entire thing herself.

Chrissy—who had now disappeared into the crowd.

All five-foot-four of Waverly was the last person who was going to find her.

“Fuck.”

 

**Two and a half hours ago**

If she hadn’t somehow managed to contract syphilis from the concert alone, she damn sure had now. Not many people moved for someone a head shorter than them, and trying to coerce drunk people to give up their seat for half a second in order for her to hunt down her lifeline posed an even greater task.

The crowd seemed to thicken and people become angrier as she pushed her way through. She vaguely registered hands attempting to grab at her to no avail. She had a midterm in eight and a half fucking hours that she hadn’t finished studying for and Chrissy depended on her for a ride home.

She shouldered her way through a wall of what sounded like football players trying to drunkenly flirt and slammed headfirst into someone’s chest as the sudden lack of people no longer gave her resistance to lean against. “Hey!” she snapped.

“Sorry,” a voice replied. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Waverly replied. “I’m fucking fine.”

“Sure sounds like it,” the voice continued. A calloused hand raised up to rub against a ribcage her head had practically impaled seconds ago. “Sure hope my tits didn’t hurt your head.”

Waverly blinked and looked up to a girl with red hair and a lit cigarette tucked between her lips. “No, I’m sorry, that was—it was shitty, I just—I’m not having a good fucking time. This concert is garbage and it’s a shitty band playing shitty music and…” _And she has red hair._ A color startlingly similar to the hair of the girl she’d run through a moment earlier seeps over her face as she realizes. “And you’re the bassist of the band I just insulted, no, I’m so sorry, I swear I didn’t mean it, I was just saying it in general, but it really has nothing to do with your band in particular, I’m really sorry—”

“Hey, hey.” The bassist laughs and shakes her head. “I don’t want you to apologize. You’re not here to inflate my ego. You’re allowed to not like things.”

Waverly blinks and stares at the cigarette for a second. “You’re Nicole Haught,” she says after a moment.

“I am,” Nicole agrees. Her eyes trace Waverly’s eyesight down to where they’re fixated on the cigarette. “You want a drag?”

“Absolutely not.”

Nicole nods and drops the cigarette, immediately crushing it with her boot. “Never was a fan of them, anyway,” she says. “So tell me, why were you pushing through the meet and greet line like a mad woman without realizing that you’d eventually run into me?”

Waverly blinks. “The what?”

“The meet and greet line. You just cut, like, two hundred people.” Nicole gestures behind her. To where a group of college kids crowd around the rest of the band. “I stepped aside for a second to take a smoke break and clear my head, and so far I have done neither of those things.”

“I didn’t—I’m not even here for that,” Waverly says absently. “I’m just—I lost my friend in the crowd half an hour ago and I don’t know where she is and I have a midterm in eight hours and I’m just so stressed out and I have no idea how in the _hell_ I’m supposed to find her.”

Nicole blinks. “I’ll find her.”

“What?”

“I’ve got a full security team around the entire perimeter of the concert. I’ll find her for you. You know, for the sake of your midterm.”

She winks and Waverly’s stomach falls through her feet.

-

Five minutes later and Chrissy had been pushed into one of her hands and a note with a hastily scribbled phone number into the other. “In case she gets lost again, you can let me know,” Nicole had said with something hiding under a smile that Waverly tried to convince herself she didn’t want to pry open with her own lips. “I’ll be sticking around for a few days.”

 

**Thirty minutes ago**

“You’re hooking up with Nicole fucking Haught. I cannot _believe_ you’re hooking up with Nicole fucking Haught. You’re about to hook up with the bassist from Revenant! Did you know she just hit twenty million followers on Instagram, Waverly? Twenty _million!_ That’s ten times more than one thousand!”

“It’s really not.”

Chrissy frowned and lolled her head against the headrest of the car seat. “She gave you her number. You’re headed to her _hotel_ . She’s having someone _drive me home_ because you two will be busy having _sex_.”

“You know that trying to emphasize certain words when you’re drunk really isn’t making the point that you want it to,” Waverly said. She bit her lip to keep a smile from falling out. “And I’m—she just invited me to her hotel room for a drink. I’m sure there will be other people there, too. They just finished a concert; the whole band is probably in there celebrating.”

“Mhmm.” Chrissy slumped back against the seat. “Sure, Waverly.”

-

As it turned out, the whole band was not in there celebrating. The only other thing besides Nicole was a an orange mass of hubris that had taken the shape of a cat and stared petulantly at her from the bed while Nicole leaned up against the doorframe.

Mainly old sweatpants and a loose black shirt were what all famous musicians wore in their free time, Waverly supposed. She shifted nervously from foot to foot. “So…I’m here,” she said after a moment.

Nicole’s weight shifted against the doorframe as she folded her arms over her chest. “I see that.”

“You gave me your number.”

“I did.”

“And then told me to come to your hotel room before I left.”

Nicole nodded. “I did that, too.”

“Well?” Waverly shifted again and frowned. “Should I like—come in?”

The messy bun Nicole sported had objectively gotten worse, which only made her look better. Rugged.

“Do you want to?”

“Is this usually how your hookups go?”

Nicole snorted and shifted her weight again, folding her arms over her chest. “No, actually. Usually they try to get a good one in with the cameras outside before they come up here. Can’t say I’d mind seeing your face plastered over newspapers all that much.”

Waverly blushed and dropped her eyesight to her feet, which carried her forward until an arm had wrapped around her back and another had found its way to her chin, forefinger lifting until her lips were within centimeters of Nicole’s.

“Do you want to come in?”

 

**Now**

Waverly’s hands fisted into what had once resembled a messy bun but was now probably more knot than hair as her thighs clamped over Nicole’s head in a desperate attempt to draw her closer. A few moans and whimpers had slipped form between her lips but she’d done her damn best to stifle them. Something about Nicole’s arrogance when she’d shifted her up to wrap her legs around Nicole’s hips and then laid her on the couch because they were too engrossed to make it to the bed had forced her to keep herself quiet.

That, and moments later when Nicole had palmed Waverly’s thighs and said, “Let me hear you,” that had been something else entirely.

A tongue pushed inside of her and she momentarily saw stars. Nicole made a grunting sound beneath her as her hair was pulled even harder, but desperate times called for desperate measures. “Please,” Waverly hissed. “Please, fuck.”

“That’s it,” Nicole murmured against her thigh. “Show me how much you want me.” Her tongue pressed against Waverly’s clit as her finger slowly pressed against her.

“Nicole—.” Words were becoming increasingly difficult to fathom.

The finger that had come close to filling her pulled away and her legs tensed in disappointment. Another please was damn near going to kill her. “If I give it to you, will you let me hear you come, Waverly?”

“If you don’t I swear to god—” She yelped as two fingers pushed inside her and her hips jutted up in reaction, pressing further against Nicole’s mouth, and that was it. Her toes clenched and the warmness at the base of her spine spiraled out against the rest of her stomach, throwing her muscles taut as her eyes rolled into the back of her head. “Fuck, you, _fuck!_ ”

Nicole’s free hand pressed herself further into Waverly’s thigh, dragging her in closer, closer, as she came. “Fuck me?” she laughed when Waverly’s body had relaxed and molded to the couch. Her eyes rang. “I think it was the other way around, wasn’t it? Or was my head not just between your legs for thirty minutes?”

Waverly huffed indignantly. “Can you go five minutes without praising yourself?”

“Hypothetically, sure.”

Nicole dipped and pressed a kiss to the inside of Waverly’s thighs so soft there was a chance she imagined it. Something so gentle it couldn’t be true.

“Your turn?”

“Maybe in a minute,” Nicole conceded. Her fingers stroked the inside of Waverly’s thighs again. “I’m a bit busy.”

And so she sank into Waverly again.

 

Waverly would’ve liked to think it was the warmth of the sun hitting her face that woke her the next morning, somehow having migrated to the bed in the middle of the night with Nicole’s fingers inside her and their tongues intertwined.

Nicole was curled up against her now, snoring softly and her fingers twitching in her sleep.

 _Her fucking midterm_.

Clothes had been strewn about the room in a sex-induced haze. Jeans that looked like the ones she’d shown up in had been discarded next to a shirt that was probably hers. Nicole flinched in her sleep as the car keys jangled in protest to Waverly’s hands.

Maybe Chrissy was right, Waverly prayed, as she tripped down the stairs and stumbled lazily in the parking garage in a desperate attempt to find her jeep. Maybe midterms were taken to be failed.

That being said, she couldn’t help but smile, maybe just a bit, at the thought of Nicole, asleep and curled around her for the rest of the night.

“Jesus!” She screamed as a camera popped up over the hood of her car. She blinked in surprise when it flashed and stumbled backwards, blindly falling against another car and shielding her eyes. Her smile vanished to hide somewhere behind her teeth “What the hell!”

“Is it true you and Ms. Haught slept in the same hotel room last night?!” Someone shouted. Another few flashes as five more camera popped up from behind surrounding cars. Jesus, that shit was blinding.

“What?” she yelled. Her hand yanked at her car door and some small part of her died when it didn’t give. Shaking fingers tried desperately to find her keys while the others covered her eyes.

“Is it true you and Ms. Haught are in a relationship?!”

“What the hell?!” she shrieked. The car door slid open and she threw herself inside, keys jamming into the ignition with the fervor of a straight A who’d woken up late to her midterm.

The jeep peeled out of the parking lot followed by a hoard of photographers.

 

Three minutes before her midterm started, she got a text. Nothing complicated, just a link to something and the little typing bubble underneath. Her hand, furiously gripping a cup of coffee that was no doubt burning the tips of her fingers, shook in excitement when it registered as Nicole’s.

The link loaded and Waverly’s heart dropped through her stomach as a picture popped up.

Her, wearing a Revenant shirt, smiling ear to ear in the parking garage of Nicole Haught’s hotel.

_Hope you liked your five minutes of fame. -Nicole_

Waverly blanked as she stared at the text that followed.

She hadn’t—she’d thought she’d grabbed her shirt, it had been next to her jeans, she’d just been smiling idly at the thought of Nicole in the parking lot and—no, _no_.

“Phones away.” Lucado cleared her throat and shuffled the papers at the front of the classroom, beady eyes making rounds over the students. “Anyone seen with a phone past this point will be assumed cheating and will receive not only an automatic fail on this midterm but will also receive a fail in the class. THis school has a zero tolerance cheating policy.

The final text Waverly saw sunk rocks through her heart.

_Nothing to say for yourself?_

 

Maybe Chrissy really was right, Waverly thought, as she failed her midterm. Maybe it was time to start telling her how smart she was more often.

 

Three unanswered texts and two downed coffees later, Waverly was absolutely shaking. The door to Homestead probably would’ve busted inwards if Waverly had thrown herself through any harder. “Wynonna!” she yelled. The kitchen was probably a good first bet.

“You’re dating Nicole fucking Haught?!” Wynonna screeched as she appeared around the corner, whiskey bottle in one hand and sandwich in the other. “Since when? I get black out drunk for two fucking days and I wake up to my sister dating a fucking celebrity?!”

“No! Argh!” Waverly combed her hands through her hair. ‘No, it’s nothing like that! The paparazzi, they ambushed me in the parking lot and made it all wrong—did you just say you were blackout drunk for two days?”

“This is not the thing to focus on!” Wynonna waved the jar of whiskey for emphasis. “You boned Nicole fucking Haught? She just hit twenty million followers on instagram! She hit twenty thousand followers times ten!”

“She really didn’t.”

“Waverly!” Wynonna stuffed the rest of her sandwich into her mouth and grabbed her by the arm, dragging her into the living room. “Tell me everything.”

A mouthful of bread followed suit.

“I didn’t—okay. I lost Chrissy at a party last night and accidentally ran into Nicole, insulted the hell out of her band to her face, then slept with her. That’s it.”

“God, I miss college.”

“I thought I grabbed my shirt off the floor and grabbed one of her dumb band shirts instead. I _happened_ to be smiling when someone _happened_ to take a picture wearing one of her dumb stupid band shirts coming out of the dumb stupid hotel where she’s staying. Sue me.”

“We could use the money.”

“I really feel like you’re not taking this seriously.”

“Well?” Wynonna shrugged and washed down the rest of her sandwich with the dregs of the whiskey. “You just seem so up in arms. She’s super fucking famous, I’m sure this kind of shit happens all the time. She’s probably already forgotten about you and moved on.”

Something pulled at Waverly’s heartstrings. “I just don’t want her to think that I did it for five minutes of fame, you know? She seemed so—she was so relieved when I showed up and asked to come in. Like someone wasn’t trying to fuck her over.”

“Waverly.” Wynonna put a hand on Waverly’s shoulder. “The only thing I’m thinking about when I’m about to hook up with someone is dick. You were definitely overthinking the situation. So you had a one night stand with one of the world’s most famous celebrities who just _happened_ to hit twenty million followers on Instagram as of yesterday. That kinda stuff happens to everyone.”

Waverly frowned. Maybe it wasn’t a huge deal. Maybe Nicole had already forgotten, and maybe she shouldn’t be so damn worried about why it bothered her so much.

 

Five unanswered texts and one unanswered call weighed Nicole’s phone down on the table in front of her.

It was stupid, really, how caught up she was in the whole situation. She’s run into girls at concerts before and slept with them and headlines had been published and she’d moved on the next day. The media was cruel. Nothing was as heartless as something that lived without a soul.

Her phones buzzed again. They weren’t due to leave for a few days so lounging around the hotel room in boxers and mismatched socks had started to look eerily like the only plan for the days sans sneaking down into the dining hall five minutes before it closed to steal a muffin and some fruit loops then scurrying back to her room to avoid being noticed.

Maybe feelings were stupid.

Yeah, that was it.

Nicole involuntarily frowned and rubbed her hand through Calamity Jane’s fur. Waverly had been different.

The first move had been to insult Nicole’s band directly to her face. That had been so humbling that her chest had actually gotten warm. It felt nice to get kicked in the throat every once in a while.

Calamity made a gurgling sound at the door and a knock followed a second later. “Not in the mood, Jer!” she called. The knocking came again. “Not in the mood!” she yelled.

By the third knock she was on her feet, throwing the door open. “Jeremy, I said I’m—oh.” Her frown deepened. “Waverly.”

“Not sure who Jeremy is, but sounds like he should come talk to you.”

Nicole rolled her eyes. “Listen, I saw someone with a camera hide out by the pool behind a bush, so if you want to get your best angle in it, you’ll want to go through the back door and hang a left—”

“WHy do you have a cat in here?”

Nicole blinked. “What?”

“A cat. Excuse me.” Waverly pushed her way through Nicole and dropped her bag by the door before fishing her arms under Calamity’s armpits and hoisting her up. “Why do you have a cat in here.”

“Uh.” Nicole scratched the back of her head. “I mean, she goes by Calamity Jane, but I really just call her Calamity for short…”

“I wasn’t asking about her name, although I love the feminist ideals behind it.” She dropped a fat kiss on Calamity’s head. “You had a cat in here last night, too. Is that even allowed. This is a nice hotel, there’s no way they allow pets in here.”

“Well.” Nicole scratched the back of her head a bit harder. “I mean, technically they don’t. But I can’t just—she gets all sad when I have to leave on tour so I just thought this time I’d bring her along with me.” Nicole eyed Calamity suspiciously. “She usually doesn’t like people very much.”

“Maybe it’s because you keep her locked up in a hotel room all the time,” Waverly cooed. Calamity made puppy eyes. Un- _fucking_ -believable.

“I’m sorry, did you come in here to insult my parenting skills after sleeping with me so you could headline for the press the next day? You’re a lot of fun, Waverly, you know that?”

“Have you even looked at any of my texts?” Waverly cradled Calamity even further into her chest.

Nicole blinked. “Didn’t particularly want to.”

“Well if you _had_ you’d have known that you’d stolen my favorite shirt.”

“You’re literally wearing my shirt right now.”

“You own one of your own band’s shirts. I think you can manage without one for twenty-four hours. Or better yet, get a new one.”

Nicole folded her arms over her chest.

“Besides,” Waverly continued. “If you’d read your texts, you would’ve known I grabbed this shirt because I thought it was mine. It was on top of my jeans and I was late for my goddamn midterm. So sorry I didn’t look too hard when trying to distinguish between two black inside out shirts when my grade was on the line.”

“Waverly—”

“Further, if you’d read your texts, you would’ve known that I was sorry that I smiled in the parking lot. Because you know what? I was thinking about you. Your nose twitches when you sleep, did you know that?”

“I’ve heard—”

“But you would’ve known that if you’d read your texts. So yeah, Nicole, I was walking through the parking lot in one of your shirts and I was smiling and someone with a camera happened to be hiding behind my car and took a picture before I knew what was going on. And then you texted me three minutes before my midterm and decided that you weren’t going to hear what I had to say because I didn’t reply in an hour.”

“Waverly—”

“And further!” Waverly planted an angry kiss to the top of Calamity’s head. She huffed.

Nicole blinked. “And further…?”

“That was it. I just had to get my point across.”

“Well did you…did you pass your midterm, at least?”

Waverly breathed heavily. She pressed another kiss to the top of Calamity’s head and tossed her onto the bed before grabbing her bag and whirling in the doorway. “Absolutely bombed it. And for god’s sake, change your damn cat litter!”

She huffed one last time and spun, leaving through the back door and hanging a right.

 

That, possibly, in one way or another, could’ve gone better, Nicole supposed. She ruffled her hand through her hair and glanced over at Calamity, who had taken to frowning at her for letting Waverly leave. “You’re not a big fan of me either, huh?”

Calamity puckered.

“Fine, fine, I’ll change the damn cat litter,” Nicole huffed.

 

“There’s a car outside,” Wynonna said.

Waverly blinked. “What?”

“A car. Outside. Not sure how I could possibly refine that more.”

“Who’s car is it?”

“Take a wild fucking guess,” Wynonna replied. She took a swig of whiskey. “If you don’t let Nicole goddamn Haught into our house I’m going to burn you at the stake. She’ll be the most expensive thing to pass through that doorway since that time I stole Cryderman’s watch at last year’s Poker Spectacular.”

“We’re not going to steal from Nicole Haught.”

“Only her heart.”

Waverly punched Wynonna in the arm and braced herself at the knock of the door. SHe swung it open to Nicole fisting her hands in her pockets and shuffling her boots. “Did you follow me home?”

“What? It’s been three days since I last saw you.”

“How did you know I live here? Is there a tracking device on my car? I swear to god if you put a fucking tracking device on my car I—”

“Waverly, Waverly, no. I actually.” She scratched the back of her head. “I got into contact with your friend Chrissy? Or I guess, she got into contact with me. Told me where I might be able to find you.”

Waverly narrowed her eyes.

“And I just.” Nicole shuffled her feet a bit more. “I wanted to tell you that I changed the cat litter.”

“Congrats on being a decent pet owner.”

Nicole winced. “So I should’ve read my texts.”

Waverly raised her eyebrows.

“Can I come in?” Waverly took a heavy breath and finally relented, following her as she went to the couch. “You were right. I should’ve read my texts. I shouldn’t have jumped the gun. Usually when that shit happens I just brush it off—girls walk out like that all the time. I guess I was just surprised, and maybe, maybe just a little hurt that it had been you.”

“It wasn’t.”

“It wasn’t,” Nicole agreed. “And.” She ruffled a hand through her hair. “And I’m sorry.” She pulled herself into a standing position. “It was wonderful hunting down Chrissy with you, Waves.”

The kiss was sweet; something so gentle Waverly could’ve imagined it.

“We’re headed to the U.S. next. Colorado. Red Rocks. If you—if you ever felt like watching our shitty band play shitty music again, I promise I’ll actually check my texts.”

“I think I’d like that.”

Nicole ducked her head and pushed herself through the door frame to the Homestead. “I’m sure Calamity and I will see you around, Waverly Earp.”

And maybe Waverly would be seeing Nicole Haught around, too.

**Author's Note:**

> follow me on [tumblr](https://please-say-nine.tumblr.com)


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